


Baby Room

by Girl_in_blue_fic



Category: Trolls (2016), Trolls World Tour (2020)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25848610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girl_in_blue_fic/pseuds/Girl_in_blue_fic
Summary: A small portrait of a quiet evening when Branch is decorating a baby room. Broppy.
Relationships: Branch/Queen Poppy (Trolls)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58
Collections: Best Broppy





	Baby Room

**Author's Note:**

> So… I was redecorating my little girl’s room and this fluffy idea came to me. I hope you like this short fanfic.

Branch still didn’t know what he was doing. He finished placing the mobile on top of the flower crib in the yellow and white room he painted after excavating an extra chamber inside the bunker. It took him longer to finish that one because he wanted it neatly done. No bumps, no imperfections on the walls or on the floor. The last thing he needed was his wife stumbling on her way to the crib. 

Thinking about the bubbly pink queen made his heart melt. She had tried very hard to continue with her queenly duties, the parties and the never-ending supply of decorations and the lessons she taught every afternoon to the kids from mixed tribes inside the classroom pod. The pink and blue egg was kept hidden in her hair, comfortably nested and protected from curious eyes. They loved their friends and subjects, but when it came to eggs, they needed to be extra-cautious. 

He climbed down the small ladder and placed it against the wall, where he climbed up again to hang three sets of shelves. He made sure flathead screws were the right size, so they wouldn’t eventually come loose with the weight of toys. 

There was a cloud-shaped lamp resting on the ground - a gift from Cloud-Guy himself - that he wanted to lean against the wall, on the top shelf, among the scrapbooks of mom and dad’s countless adventures. Poppy made sure there were some highly contrasted characters, because Dr. Moonbloom said babies were born with limited eyesight. 

He heard the mattress shifting on the next room and a soft smile curled his lips. Poppy had returned home exhausted from the meeting with the leaders. The connection with the child was growing stronger each day and she cared and looked after every detail, thinking about what he or she might need and he could observe, in the distance, as he did his chores, that her mind wasn’t on the royal agenda at all, instead, she seemed to space off to take mental notes of what she had to prepare when the time came. 

That afternoon she had returned home yawning tiredly. He prepared her a bath and offered a neck rub. It drove him crazy the way she softly moaned in approval every time his fingers undid a painful knot or when he caressed her hair with the excuse to brush it out of the way. If she wasn’t so tired maybe it could lead to something else. 

The time was shortening and, being the list maniac she was, she still needed to sort of the baby clothes by age, by colors and by seasons, so the bath lasted less than he wanted it to. She gave him a soft, delicious kiss on the lips after drying herself and by the way her eyelids were only halfway open, he knew she wouldn’t get enough organizing done before she crashed. 

The shelves were in place and he tried the lamp, seeing it flicking on beautifully, giving the room a sleepy atmosphere. Poppy had explained that colors were important to babies. He didn’t know much about it, so he trusted her on that. Apparently, a soft blue and yellow decoration would sooth the baby; not that he or she wouldn’t ever cry, but the colors could work as a gentle rub on the back. 

King Peppy had dropped by the previous day and gifted them with a collection of bottles that were similar to the ones he had used when Poppy was a baby. The older King was so thrilled to be a grandfather that he had completely forgotten how cross he had been with the idea of his daughter’s defloration. Branch had had an earful right before being hugged.

He placed the bottles on top of the changing table. He didn’t even dare to put them in the right place because he knew Poppy would tell him he had done it wrong. Her organization was perfect from what he could see: on top of the changing table, a soft pad was placed next to cotton balls, diapers and creams for rashes. 

Everything was so frighteningly real. He wondered if he would be a good dad, not having the memory of a father figure to compare to. He was scared he could mess things up somehow. Being a safety nerd, would the baby grow to see him as a freak or as a role model? His self doubts were similar to the ones he had when he confessed his feelings to the queen. 

Once his thoughts returned to her, he decided he had enough work done for the day. Maybe he should fix her a nice dinner, but he stopped by their bedroom just to admire the beautiful sight of his wife laying on her side with her hair carefully wrapped around the egg, keeping it warm. 

Piles of bodysuits were scattered on the bed, folded carefully and rolled on colorful baskets that would work as drawers accordingly with the Montessori method she was following to guide the decorations. It was good for the child’s development, she had said. 

He placed the piles on the floor, carefully keeping them separated the way she had arranged them, and slid behind her, placing his hands on her body, spooning comfortably and squeezing like she was a treasured gift from the heavens. Well, she was. He still couldn’t believe how much she had changed his life, simply by encouraging him to be himself. All the love and support she constantly poured on him were like energy boosts. 

“I love you.” He whispered in her ear, making her smile in her sleep. 

He had been thinking about their relationship, too. It scared him that in a few days it wouldn’t be just the two of them anymore. Their time would be filled with baby routine, with baths and dirty diapers and cries in the middle of the night. Would they even have the time to cuddle anymore? Everything would change and her priorities would turn to the innocent and helpless life that was growing inside the egg. 

A life that they had made with their love for each other. 

She shifted under his arms, turning around to bury her face into his chest, wrapping her arms around him. Slowly, her bright magenta eyes fluttered open, staring at him groggily at first. He kissed her nose playfully, making her giggle. 

“We haven’t decided a name, yet.” She blurted out, tracing his lips with the tip of her fingers. 

“We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.” He pointed out. Somehow, he felt like naming their child once he or she was born. Maybe having a face to look at, a name would intuitively pop up. 

She leaned forward, giving him a light kiss, then another, then it became a series of desperate little kisses. He was enjoying them a lot until he felt something wetting his cheeks. He opened his eyes to see her lashes filled with tear droplets. 

“What’s wrong?” He felt the need to hold her tighter. 

“I’m so glad to have you.” She answered with a timid smile. 

They didn’t have a big wedding ceremony, filled with dance, laughter and rose petals on the floor. Everything happened too slow and too fast. The concept of time became elastic when it came to their relationship. It was variable depending on the point of view. When they were together, it seemed endless, like they had known each other for an eternity, but now that they had a baby on the way, it seemed like they could have enjoyed more sunsets, like they could have had more quiet and cuddling nights. 

Everything would change. It warmed and scared them both. 

She suddenly giggled again, extracting herself from his arms and walking towards the baby room. Her hair made a move, bringing the egg right in front of her chest so she could pick it up in her arms. 

“See, baby? This is your room and daddy worked really hard to make it comfy for you.” She said, smiling when she felt his arms sliding around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. 

“Can I ask you something?” Branch asked, making her shiver when his warm breath fanned the skin on her neck. She nodded and he continued. “We’ll be focused on the baby, but… when all the rush passes can we have a real wedding?”

She looked startled at his question, she turned her head to look at him, still wrapped in each other. The last thing she expected was Branch to want to be the center of attention. Even his role as her consort slimmed out to the point of standing on the background, administrating her time and her agenda. 

“To wrap up our happy ending, you know?”

“It sounds appropriate.” She gave him a long and sweet kiss, the kind of lip lock that he could read into. She not only agreed, but was flipping inside with happiness. She turned in his arms, deeping the hug and groaning as her body molded against his. 

His fears melted when she pressed up against him like that. He knew then that no matter where life took them, if he was going to be a consort, if he was going to take the spotlight more often, if he was going to be a good dad or even if he could be the husband she deserved. Their lives would have their ups and downs and, like a roller coaster, he wouldn’t fear the ride because she would be there by his side.


End file.
